


Canvas

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Barebacking, Implied/Referenced Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Abuse, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: There are so many things they could, maybe should say. How stupid it is they didn't figure this out earlier. How sad it is what they did to each other because of it. How bad it is that they're doing this now, once they've both got their respective lives, families, spouses set up on different sides of the Atlantic. But they don't say any of that. They just kiss, and let themselves have this one night of the life they can't.





	Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> So, I found a bunch of really old prompts on a [TT kink meme from like, 2011,](https://tts-meme.livejournal.com/) combined a couple of them about Robbie & Gary having sex around the time of the "Shame" video shoot, and then it got kinda out of hand.

Robbie paces his kitchen, alternately glaring at the clock that reminds him of his problem, and the cocoa that has done nothing to alleviate it. Insomnia. Fucking insomnia. Ironically, since he stopped drugging it into oblivion it's been less of a problem, which he chalked to how much happier he is now, with Ayda and the band both in his life (although which of them deserves most of the credit, he's not sure).

Just not tonight. Tonight, Robbie is jittering about like it's two thousand and fucking one, and he wishes he didn't have such a good idea about why. The soft snores drifting downstairs from the guest bedroom, a room he doesn't think anyone's ever slept in before.

Rob groans aloud. He and Gaz have fixed it all, haven't they? Wasn't that the whole point of the video? Tearing their shirts off and making eyes like lovestruck cowboys, because it's _better_ now; somewhere, in the wreckage of all the pain and damage they caused each other, they found something good, something right, something pure, and they can hold onto that, forget the rest of it, be two mates like they always should have been, before life got in the way.

So there's no reason the thought of Gary Barlow sleeping under his roof should get his heart pumping. It shouldn't leave him as tense as that last moment between high and comedown. He shouldn't feel like the whole fucking house is about to crash on top of him.

Rob jumps to his feet, incensed by the whole situation. If Ayda were here, she might be able to stop him doing something stupid, but she isn't, so. He leaves the useless cocoa cooling on the bench, trudges up the stairs loudly, and knocks before he can think better of it.

The sharp, hollow sound rings out, and Rob winces, thinking better of it too late. A spike of adolescent anxiety fills his veins when he thinks that he probably just woke Gary up, how Gary would have taken that fifteen years ago, _Rob, it's three in the fucking morning, we need sleep, I have to sing tomorrow you can't just..._

When Gary does open the door, clad only in a black silk bathrobe – one Rob lent him, one a little too big for him – his eyes are sleepy, but soft. “Rob?” he asks, sounding surprised – as if he forgot Robbie was here, in his own house. “Is something wrong?”

Rob hesitates. How does he answer that? _No_ , is an obvious option, because well, nothing really is, but at the same time he can't remember the last time he really felt like nothing was wrong. “I can't sleep,” he says dumbly, which is true enough, and he lets Gary do with the information what he will.

Gary smiles a little. “Thought I was meant to be the jetlagged one?” he asks. Robbie frowns, not sure how to interpret that response – was that a rejection? Of _what_? But then Gary opens his door a little further. “Come on, come in.”

Robbie didn't know he was asking for an invitation, but he takes it gladly, following Gary in when he steps back and perches himself on the edge of the bed, letting Rob close the door behind him. He has the curtains closed, and the room is illuminated only by the orange glow of the bedside lamp. Rob feels a warm sweat break upon his forehead, and you'd think he'd be used to the heat after so many years in LA. His eyes trace a path down Gary's neck, toward the hair poking out from his chest beneath the dark fabric – that robe suits Gary, Rob realises. It's almost seductive, which is a trait he never thought he'd associate with the other man. In comparison, his own grubby grey t-shirt and pyjama pants make him feel a bit underdressed.

Gary is giving him a curious look, frowning a little – not with irritation, as it once would have been, but concern. “Is there something you need to talk about?” he asks.

Rob rubs the back of his neck anxiously. Good question. Question he hoped he wasn't going to be asked. What is this, fucking therapy? “Dunno,” he says and he shrugs as casually as he can. With nowhere else he can sit, he only semi-reluctantly follows Gary across the room, taking his place next to him on the bed. For a moment, he thinks of 2006, their first meeting in nine years, trapped in a hotel room together and in pain, the both of them; it _hurt_ to look at each other then. It still sometimes hurts now, but it also often soothes, and so Robbie takes his chances.

Gary is still looking at him so softly, he can hardly believe is the same person he used to know. “You don't have to tell me,” he says, and Robbie gulps. Why does he have to be so fucking understanding?

“Not sure about that, mate,” Rob tries to laugh it off. “Pretty sure if I make a habit of waking people up at three in the morning and then not telling them why, I'll start getting complaints.”

“Guess you'll have to keep it to me, then,” Gaz grins, and Rob feels a flush rise to his cheeks. Christ, what is wrong with him? “But I don't mind.” He winds an arm around Rob's shoulders. “Honestly, if you're just lonely and fancy a cuddle, I can live with that.”

Robbie immediately, unthinkingly, sinks into Gary's embrace. He leans his head against the other man's shoulder and he thinks. It shouldn't feel so easy; it's too hot and Rob can feel Gary's skin sticking beneath his own, but still, it's an old habit not yet forgotten. They used to cuddle all the time in the nineties. They all did. Always hugging, always stroking, always touching, always kissing – always playing up to an audience, although Robbie quickly lost track of who that audience was.

It hurt then. Robbie still remembers how much it hurt, to have Gary so close and yet, a million miles away.

In hindsight, he can't really _blame_ Gary for not noticing how angry he was.

He sighs into Gary's shoulder and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling himself in closer. For once, he doesn't talk. He listens to the dull chirp of crickets outside, and the pound of Gary's heartbeat. He traces his fingers along Gary's hip, feels the muscle beneath the silk. A shiver runs through him. Fuck, that body. For everything between them that comes from the past, that body is _new_ , and Robbie gets a thrill to touch it. He feels a wave of insecurity as well, the fear he has not aged as well. If someone who'd never heard of Take That saw the two of them today, would they know which one was older?

Maybe it's only fair, given what Gary's body was like at what should have been the prime of his life, but that doesn't make him feel any better.

Gary leans into him in turn, his hand coming up to brush his fingers through Rob's hair comfortingly. Rob keens to the touch. Gary has nice hands, he always did.

After a second or two, Gary squirms a little. Perhaps he's just realised the position they're in: barely dressed on his bed, leaning into one another and holding on for dear life. It's the sort of thing that starts rumours, if they haven't been started already. Maybe Gary's worried. Robbie should be worried too, but somehow, it's not coming. Which for him, might just count as a miracle.

He looks up, his eyes meeting Gary's. They're close. Maybe too close. “Why are you being like this?” Robbie hears himself asking. Does he want to know the answer there? “Why be so nice to me?”

Gary smiles, but Rob notes it doesn't look quite right. He's still hiding something, behind his mask of newfound paternalism. “Someone has to look after you,” he whispers. “God knows what happens when we leave you on your own.”

Rob chuckles a little. “Surely, it should be the other way 'round though?” he asks. “Don't I owe you a little bit more than vice versa?”

Gary's hand in his hair tenses – really, Robbie was just being self-deprecating, but now he's afraid Gary's going to realise he's right, to remember all the reasons he has to never want to see Rob again, to throw him out and leave them both hating each other as much as ever. _Don't be stupid,_ Robbie tells himself, and digs his nails into Gary's side. “No,” Gary says, stern. “That's not how it works. It's not about who owes who and all that shit,” he continues, and slowly, Robbie feels the tension inch out of him. “I want to look after you because I want to look after you. I want you to be okay.”

Robbie can feel Gary's breath on his skin, hot as the California summer, and it's all too much. If he's not careful, he'll fucking cry, and then where would they be? “Gaz...” he drawls out the word, and hopes he can somehow force everything he feels that he could never speak in there.

A bite of the lip, and then Gary averts his eyes, perhaps almost as overwhelmed as Robbie is. “I don't want to fuck it up again,” he whispers, and Robbie's not even sure if Gary's talking to him, really. “I don't want to lose you.”

He stares. God, how is he meant to respond to that? In the end, he acts on instinct. He leans in, and presses his lips against Gary's own.

As kisses go, it's not much of one. He barely gets to taste Gary's mouth a second before the other man jumps back in shock. And yet, it's enough. Rob realises what he's doing, and somehow, everything starts clicking into place.

From the beginning, he just wanted Gary to notice him. He tried and tried and every time, it tore him up when Gary could barely look outside his own arse long enough to see anyone. And so he tried giving up, tried pretending he never cared at all, tried wanting to destroy him, but the whole time he just couldn't stay away, couldn't keep his words to himself, couldn't help but keep scratching away even when nobody else cared, when there was no damage left to be done, when he was only ever hurting himself, but he just couldn't quit.

He tried having Gary and he tried hating Gary, but in the end, all he wanted to do was kiss him, kiss him again and again and know he could kiss him any time he pleased, kiss him until he was the only thing left in the world.

And then he remembers that Gary is still right there, that he has in fact just kissed him, and _oh fuck._

“Oh fuck,” Robbie announces the second after he says it, averts his eyes, tries to push himself out of Gary's embrace, tries to stop this before it goes too far. “Sorry, mate, I didn't – I mean, I wasn't – I'll just–”

“Rob.” Gary stops him, a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him firmly. Hesitating, Robbie looks up, meeting his eye once more. Gary looks stunned. Confused. But he strokes Rob's shoulder gently, and he might not quite understand but somehow, Robbie knows the last thing Gary wants is for him to leave. “I-it's okay,” he says, a shaky voice undercutting him a little. “It's okay.”

Robbie wants to believe that, that none of his stupid fucking choices have consequences, but: “really?” Because he's not sixteen anymore, it finally matters if it turns out he's gay, what with him getting married next year and all.

Gary smiles again, trying so hard to be reassuring. “Really,” he says, his hand cupping Rob's jaw. _Don't_ , Robbie ought to tell him, but he's not strong enough for that, never was. “I mean...” Gary trails off a moment, a blush coming to his cheeks. “I quite liked it, to be honest with you.”

Rob stops. He tilts his head to the side. “Really?” He's going to get sick of that word soon. Gary blushes properly then, and Rob can't help but smile, remembering the first days they new each other and Gaz could hardly look at any of them with their shirts off without going tomato-coloured. He had to adjust pretty fast, though. It's been a long time, and Rob thinks of his teenage self, how thrilled he would have been to find any chink in Barlow's impenetrable armour.

There are a millions reasons this is a bad idea, but Robbie Williams has never been known for his self-control after all. He leans in, and kisses Gaz properly this time.

Gary doesn't try to push him away. He starts a second, but gives in easily, so easily Rob wonders why he didn't do this earlier, if it would have been so simple. His lips slip open and Rob greedily pushes a tongue inside, eager to find whatever parts of Gary have been hidden all these years. Ayda, ever the open-minded Californian, doesn't mind him having meaningless sex while he's out of town (albeit, the question tends to be a bit theoretical these days). Which this isn't; nothing between him and Gary could never be _meaningless_ , but he'll pretend. He'll pretend because he _needs it._

There's a loud groan and Gary tilts his head back. Robbie remembers he's taller than Gaz, and takes advantage, placing one hand square over Gary's chest and pushing him a little, so that Gaz has to put his hands behind him so he doesn't fall flat on his back. Nipping gently at Gary's lower lip, he finds the knot holding his own robe together on Gary's body, and he pulls. He pulls away too. He wants to see. The black silk comes undone, and underneath – nothing. Just the bare expanse of Gary's body. _Fuck_.

He bites his lip, trying to ignore the surge of blood to his groin at the sight laid out in front of him. “Sleep naked, do you Gaz?” He's pretty sure Gary didn't do that the few times they shared a room, back in the day. “Never have thought you the type.” He can't stop staring at Gary's cock, just perking to life from the kisses. He could be a little offended Gaz isn't harder, but then again, they're both getting on a bit, and these things can take time at their age.

Gary, again, blushes. “I just find it more comfortable,” he mumbles, so embarrassed that Robbie doesn't believe him. He knows he's sexy. Likes it. Robbie likes it too.

“Sure,” he says, leaning in to kiss him again, and Gary moans softly as their lips meet. Gently, Robbie traces his fingers down the curves of Gaz's belly, and then stops just as he feels blond hair scratch his hand. “Is this okay?” he breaks away from Gary's lips to ask. There are reasons, really fucking good ones, that they should stop. And if either of them is going to be the responsible one and make them stop, even if they really don't want to, it's going to be Gary.

He can see the doubt flicker in Gaz's eyes, the image of his wife and children – fuck, Dawn, Robbie doesn't even want to think about her; sweet, stubborn, loyal Dawn who stuck by her husband's side, no matter how much shit the world through at him, who may well be what kept him alive those years. Only for him to run off and fuck the one man who did more than anyone else to destroy him. In what universe would that be fair?

And yet...

“Yes,” Gary sighs, his eyes slipping closed in resignation. It's been too long. He's wanted this too, Robbie realises. They've both wanted this too long, and now they have the chance to have it, no sense of right and wrong can get in the way. “God, I can't fucking stop.”

Robbie laughs, although it's not really funny. He seizes Gaz's mouth once more, letting the other man grab his waist to pull him in. He reaches down and takes a greedy hold of Gary's cock, starts to stroke him slowly.

Gary groans and thrusts into his grip, catching Rob off-guard. Despite the rumours, he's never done this with another man. He's kissed one before, but never any further – and it was so long ago, he doesn't even remember who it was.

Still, it's all surprisingly easy. Gary's prick hardens in his palm and Gary's tongue slides into his mouth and it just fits, like it was always meant to be there. Part of Rob, the same part that believes in ghosts and aliens, believes it's because they were always meant to do this, they were always meant to be together this way, at least once, and so of course it seems natural.

Gary's nails dig into his waist, just above the ink, and Robbie leans in closer, basically crawling into Gary's lap. Gary lets out a shuddering breath as Robbie starts to grind against his thigh, relieving himself as he wanks Gaz off, the sweat from Gary's naked body seeping into his pyjamas and Rob would worry that he'll smell of Gaz for weeks, but then again, maybe he always has done.

“Rob,” Gary whispers into his mouth and Robbie pulls back, grinning.

“Don't worry, Gaz. I'll take care of you,” he says, cocky as always but he means it, for once he feels as bold as he's always pretended to be. It's funny: for all the years when no-one made him feel smaller than Gaz, it turns out no-one makes him feel bigger either.

Alright, he thinks when he glances down and sees how big and hard Gary's gotten in his hand, maybe not in every department, but size isn't everything, you know.

He licks his lip. Frankly, not being able to work up an appetite for cock was always the big stumbling block before being as gay as everyone thought he was, but now, maybe he's a little peckish.

Gary tilts his head back with a moan, his adam's apple bobbing as Robbie swipes a thumb over his head, and he spreads his legs wider. Robbie almost falls to the floor then, but it doesn't matter; Gaz is so willing, so eager, and it makes Rob want more. It makes him want everything. “Gaz.” He leans in and kisses Gary's neck, marks the skin with his teeth. Gary's skin might be a little more wrinkled these days, but it still looks so pure and untouched, and Robbie wants to claim it. “Gaz, can I suck your cock?”

He should have been less direct. He should have teased, prodded, maybe just done it without warning – he knows he just opened himself up there, and he knows that if he opens himself up, Gary could crush him. He always could.

Gary shudders from head to toe, and Robbie feels a wave of relief, realising Gary's too far gone to pretend he wants anything other than what he wants either. “Yes,” he hisses, still keening toward Robbie's touch. “Yes, god Rob, please.”

Rob's cock twitches so hard he's afraid he'll tear his pyjama pants right open. Fuck, did Gaz just _beg_ him? It seems damn near impossible. If his sixteen year old self knew...

He falls to the floor in a millisecond, too eager to stretch it out, to make Gaz wait. He hisses as the hardwood floor beneath the carpet smacks against his knees. He looks up and sees Gary, eyes wide, leaning back, legs spread. Waiting. He looks like he can't believe it either. Has he thought about this before? During _those_ years, did he think of putting Robbie Williams on his knees, back in his place?

Robbie shudders. It's _different_ now, it has to be. Neither of them is going to make the other do anything – but if they want to do something, well, who's to stop them?

A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps. “Rob.” Gary's eyes slide shut, a tremor to match Robbie's own running through his body. There's doubt in his voice – of course there is, with all the ways they both know this is wrong. But, Robbie thinks, there are ways that it's right as well. There are ways it should have happened a long time ago.

Robbie leans in, swipes his tongue along the length of Gary. Despite anything anyone might have read, it's not like he really knows what he's getting himself into. The taste is alright, though. Not that different from a woman, to be honest. He's gentle, still getting a feel for it, grasping Gary's cock with his hand to keep it still as he kisses the head. The act itself doesn't do that much for him, but – Gary gasps, moans, digs his lovely long fingers into Robbie's shoulder, and he keens for more. Rob makes a sound that catches even him off-guard. _Fuck._

He doesn't think he's ever been harder in his life.

Brazenly, he wraps his lips around it properly, sucking Gaz down like he can't wait for it. “God,” Gary hisses, and Robbie chuckles around him, thinking _not quite, but thanks anyway._ A hand grasps his hair, and for a second Robbie's afraid Gaz is simply going to push him down – he doesn't really know if Gary ever was selfish enough for that, but he isn't now. He simply tugs gently at Rob's dark locks, and runs his fingers through soothingly, urging Rob on but not demanding anything; willing to take what he gets. Robbie likes it. It makes him want to give more.

He pushes _himself_ down, swallowing Gaz as much as he possibly can. He can only really get about halfway before his gag reflex really wants a word with him, but that's okay, he manages a rhythm squeezing and stroking what he can't suck. Gary doesn't seem to be complaining. He lets out a throaty groan and his self-control starts to falter, unwittingly giving tiny thrusts into Rob's mouth, although he's clearly trying not to. It makes this harder for Rob, and when Gary's cock knocks right at the back of his throat his stomach gives a worrying lurch, but somehow, he doesn't mind. What once would have seemed annoying, greedy, mean is now ridiculously flattering. It's not that Gaz is trying to strain his throat. It's just that he's enjoying it so much, he can't help himself.

Precome starts to fall onto Robbie's tongue, and that tastes stranger, but not necessarily in a bad way. He quickly loses track of himself. He closes his eyes and bobs his head easily, enthusiastically, like a pro. It just seems so normal, somehow. You'd be forgiven for thinking they'd been doing this twenty years, and not been unable to be in a room together for half that time.

Absentmindedly, he starts to rub himself through his pyjama bottoms, lost in the motion of taking Gary's cock in his mouth. Then Gaz pulls at his hair all of a sudden, cries out desperately. “Rob, Rob, stop!”

Robbie stops. Saliva forms a neat trail between his bottom lip and the head of Gaz's prick as he pulls off. He looks up, and his heart starts thumping harder, his stomach lurches once more. “Is something wrong?” _Did I do something wrong?_ It's stupid, but a paranoid part of Robbie can't help but think that he must have fucked it up, as per usual, and now Gaz is going to walk out and not want anymore and never want him again and then what would he fucking do?

Gary can clearly see the the anxiety written all over him, because his hands run through Rob's hair like he's soothing a wounded animal, his smile as warm and kind as any ever given. “No, no, you were fine, you were – great.” Gaz blushes a little at that, and Robbie eyes his cock once more, wet with saliva and precome. Yeah, he didn't think he was doing that badly. He looks at Gary's face once more, thinking _so what is it then?_ Gaz chews his lip nervously, clearly weighing something up in his own mind. Then he lets go of Robbie's hair, instead reaching out so he can pull Rob's arm up, taking him by the hand. “I want more.”

Robbie doesn't quite follow, not at first, but he does follow Gary's lead, letting himself be pulled back up, onto the bed, and into another kiss. Rob groans as Gary's tongue fills his mouth, which still feels a little strange and numb, and Gary sighs deeply at the taste of himself on Rob's lips. He doesn't seem to mind. Rob feels that bloody bathrobe brush against his skin and it occurs to him how stupid it is that Gaz is still wearing it, when they've already gone this far; he breaks the kiss so he can pull it off eagerly, impatiently. Gary's already mostly naked, but Rob wants to see it all. Gary seems faintly amused by his enthusiasm, but he raises his arms so Robbie can take the thing off and throw it to the floor. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of Gary's body. He bites his lip. For someone whose job involves a lot of coming up with lyrics, for this, he has no words.

He's snapped back to reality by a hand pressing at his hip. Gary is smiling at him again. “Don't I get a show.”

Robbie laughs, then reaches for the hem of his t-shirt. But he hesitates. It's stupid, he knows it's stupid. He was shirtless just this morning. And yet, he can't help but be afraid of what Gary might think of what he sees. Gary probably still remembers him when he was seventeen, skinny and pretty, and every bloody girl in the country wanted to fuck him. He doesn't look like that anymore, after the years of booze and drugs and other forms of self-abuse. Of course, Gaz looks different too, but Gaz looks _so_ good. Rob's not sure if he measures up. Gary wanted him back in the day, but is Rob still the version of himself Gary wants?

Gary's other hand grabs him, and pulls him in closer. Somehow, it's like Gaz knows what he's thinking. “You're beautiful,” he says, matter-of-fact, and Rob shudders as Gary's cock presses against his thigh. “You always were, Rob. Trust me. There's no circumstance where I'm going to complain about getting to see you naked.” Rob pulls back to look at him, and Gary tilts his head to give him another small smile. “I mean, I saw you half-naked today. Really, I should be pleased; clearly you didn't notice me checking out the view.”

Rob has to laugh at that, and he kisses Gary again, getting an affectionate chuckle against his lips. It's Gary who actually pulls his shirt up over his head, breaking the kiss to do so, although Robbie chucks it across the room. Gary runs his hands up and down his chest, pausing when he touches the swallows inked just above Rob's pelvis. He groans at the touch, surprised how sensitive he is there. “Like what you see?” he asks, and when he looks down he remembers, yeah, he's still a bit of a looker. There are still men and women across the world who would give anything to be where Gaz is right now.

Gaz blushes a little at the question, but grins. “Yeah,” he says. He taps the tattoos. “These. I love these.” He traces the wingspan of one with his finger. Robbie gives him a curious look, a little surprised – Gary and tattoos are practically antithetical concepts; that's half the reason Robbie started getting them – and that only makes Gary blush deeper. “Guess I have a thing for the bad boys, huh?”

Robbie snorts. “Now you tell me.” Gary makes an offended noise, reaches round and spanks him playfully. That makes Robbie make a frankly _embarrassing_ sound, although he's not willing to call it a whimper – it's damn close though.

Gary then tugs at the waist of his trousers impatiently. “C'mon, off,” he whispers in Rob's ear, perhaps giving himself permission to be a little commanding after all.

But Rob doesn't mind; he hops up and schucks what remains of his clothing aside readily. Gary can't help but grin as Robbie strips for him. “Like what you see?” he asks cockily, none-too-subtly thrusting in Gaz's direction.

Gary laughs, still pink in the cheeks. It's adorable. “It's not as if I've never seen it before, Rob,” he points out.

“...True.” Rob frowns, considering this a moment. “How come I don't remember seeing much of yours, then?”

As Rob kneels back on the bed and settles himself in Gary's lap once more, Gary raises an eyebrow at him. “I didn't like taking my pants off in front of you. You used to take the mick out of my pubic hair, remember?”

Rob takes a second to remember this. “Oh. Right.” A blush comes to his face then. “Mate, you realise I was looking for an excuse as to why I was staring like that, right?”

And Gary gets a look on his face like no, he's never thought of that before, and it makes Robbie laugh again. It makes him kiss Gaz again. Gary gives a surprised hum, parting his lips and winding an arm around Rob's shoulders.

It all seems so simple, so natural, that Robbie barely even notices when Gaz starts pulling him down, the both of them falling onto the bed. Gary lands on his back and Rob lands on top of him, and Gaz moans as Rob's cock slides between his legs, the two of them rubbing against each other until their bodies align just right, a wave of pleasure sparking up Robbie's spine as Gary's cock pushes against his own. He's just about reached between their bodies and wrapped a hand around the both of them, ready and willing to take responsibility for wanking the two of them off, before he remembers Gary's words from before, about wanting more. This probably isn't what he meant.

Gaz seems to remember at the exact same moment, moaning in Rob's ear as Rob's fingers stroke him gently. “Rob, I want you to fuck me.”

And Robbie pulls back, startled. When he looks Gary in the eye, he flushes again, as if he only just realised what he said. He's not backing down though. “T-there's massage oil in the top drawer,” he adds, averting his eyes shyly. “You'll need it...”

That leaves Rob even more surprised, and while he doesn't want to remove his body from the pleasure of Gary's embrace, he is curious. He leans over and opens the drawer, and sure enough, there's a bottle there, bright orange and extremely eye-catching. He grabs it, stares at it a moment, then stares at Gaz, trying to make sense of it all. “What, did you plan this or something?” he asks, not sure how to feel about the possibility he might have been seduced.

Gary only blushes deeper. “No!” he insists a little too strenuously. “I'm just _old._ I get actual muscle aches.”

Robbie raises an eyebrow. “And who were you planning on having massage those aches of yours?”

“Well you know, you are a superstar. I just sort of assumed you'd have an army of servants running about for that sort of thing.”

“What, like that butler you used to have?”

Gary turns redder at that. “Oh – fuck off.”

Robbie laughs. “Hey, I always liked Maurice. He seemed almost as done with your shit as I was.”

Gary shoves his chest playfully, and Robbie shoves him right back. They grin at each other. Robbie kisses him again. Gary groans as he returns it, arching his hips up underneath. Gently, he hooks his left leg around Robbie's thigh. Suddenly Robbie remembers the bottle he's holding, how they got into this conversation in the first place, what Gary wants from him.

That doesn't mean he can believe it though. He breaks the kiss, and stares at Gary again, sees another nervous look in his eye. It's not that he doesn't want to fuck Gaz. He does. He really does. He thinks he always has done. It's just, he can't believe he'd be allowed.

That's the way it was, back in the nineties when he wanted Gary so, so badly, but never let himself accept it, admit it, because deep inside he knew it was impossible. Gary always seemed so far above him, so perfect, so pure – who would ever want to run the risk of letting Robbie fuck him, and fuck him up?

He swallows hard, meeting Gary's gaze once more. “You sure about this, Gaz?” he asks.

And Gary still looks nervous, but that's okay. Robbie's nervous too. He's not so far away anymore – he's here, with Robbie, their bodies trembling together. This is how it should have been when they were young, but it's no good thinking that now. “Yes,” Gary says, his fingers running up and down Robbie's chest again. “I – I've wanted this a really long time, Rob...”

Rob cocks his head to side, curious. “How long?”

Gary averts his eyes again. “Oh, twenty years, give or take,” he mumbles, trying to sound casual.

Robbie frowns at that. “What?” he asks. “This whole time?”

“Off and on, yeah.”

“Even when I wasn't very nice to you?”

Gary bites his lip and hooks his chin over Robbie's shoulder, stubble bristling against his skin. “Sometimes,” he admits. “Though sometimes I hated you for it, and I hated myself for it too.”

Robbie gulps. He remembers that feeling. “It's alright, Gaz,” he says, and with his free hand he strokes Gary's hair, pulls him back so he can see his pretty face again. “I want you too.”

They stare at each other, and there are so many things they could, maybe should say. How stupid it is they didn't figure this out earlier. How sad it is what they did to each other because of it. How bad it is that they're doing this now, once they've both got their respective lives, families, spouses set up on different sides of the Atlantic. But they don't say any of that. They just kiss, and let themselves have this one night of the life they can't.

Gary moans as Robbie grinds against his thigh, and Robbie finally remembers that the oil won't be good for much if he never bloody opens it. The snap of the lid is oppressively loud, and the lube cool against his skin; he traces his fingers along the inside of Gary's thigh teasingly, and then pulls back to see Gary shudder in anticipation. “Like that?”

With eyes fluttering shut, Gary nods, spreading his legs wider. “By all means, take your time,” he mutters, and Rob laughs.

“Mate, don't you try reverse psychology on me,” he says, and then he pushes one finger behind Gary's bits, finding that tiny little hole. Gary gasps, and squirms against him. “Jesus,” Rob murmurs as he feels Gaz's arse damn near pulsing, like it's trying to suck him in. “You really do want this, don't you?” Even now, it's hard to believe. Why would someone like Gary ever want someone like him?

“ _God_ ,” Gaz hisses, biting his lip, practically writhing against the sheets. He opens his eyes. “Rob – please,” he says. “Please don't tease.”

“Me? Tease?” Robbie asks him. “Never.”

And Gary cries out when Robbie finally pushes a finger inside him, explores his soft inside. Fuck, he's _so_ tight. Robbie wonders if he's ever done this before. He'd ask, but he finds he doesn't want to know. Maybe he's being selfish – no, he's _definitely_ being selfish – but he wants to believe he's the first one who's ever had Gaz like this, that he's the only one Gary's ever opened himself up to like this, that he can make some small part of Gaz his, and his alone, forever. See, totally selfish.

“Aaah, yes,” Gary tells him, rocking back against his hand shamelessly. “That's it, Rob. Deeper. Go deeper. That's it, that's it, touch me there...” Frankly, Rob is grateful for the advice. If this is probably going to be the only time they'll ever have this, he wants it to be good. He wants it to be worth it.

He crooks his finger back and forth, finding all the spots Gaz likes best, and Gary clearly, blatantly, _is_ liking it, so much that it only takes Rob a little courage to push a second finger inside, stretch him wider. “Oh, oh god,” Gary mumbles, his muscled thighs splayed wide, and Robbie kisses him again, soothing.

“It's alright. I got you.” Part of him wonders when this turned from him going to Gaz to help with his insomnia, to Gary clinging to him as Rob pries his arse open, but that's okay. They take care of each other now. That's what friendship's all about. Gary's hands wrap around him and dig into the small of his back, and Rob groans at the feel of his touch. His cock throbs with need, and he rubs himself gently against Gary's hip. He's not going to rush things though. He never wants to hurt Gaz again.

Gary is so tight though, and part of Robbie worries that maybe he can't take anymore, but it seems Gaz does not share his concerns. “More,” he moans, writhing, bucking, trembling, and jesus, Robbie feels like he could come just _looking_ at him. He looks obscene. And people used to say he was the unsexy one.

“Alright,” he answers, not that he thinks Gaz really hears him beneath the sound of his own desperate noises, but he definitely notices when Rob pushes a third slicked finger against his rim. Fuck, it's too tight. It'll never fit. In a panic, he looks up and meets Gary's eye again. Gary pants and thrashes about some more, but when he sees the worry on Rob's face, he stops and smiles encouragingly. _Go on,_ he seems to say. _I want it. It'll be alright. You won't hurt me._ Robbie feels his heart thump in his chest. Fuck, that smile. They should put a warning label on that smile.

His third finger slips in, and Gary almost screams, his nails digging into Robbie's skin. Rob stops. “Are you alright?!” he asks, when Gary's face is clearly contorted in pain. This has gone wrong. They should stop.

But Gary only holds him tighter, his hand slipping down to cup Robbie's arse. “I-I'm alright,” he insists, and as he circles his hips slightly, the discomfort seems to ebb from his face. “Just give me a moment...”

Robbie waits, not sure what to do, feeling a bit of a cunt just sitting here with three fingers trapped up Gary's arse. His cock is still hard though. He lets Gary do the work, shuffling his hips back and forth a little, until he lets out a sigh and a groan and finally, he loosens a bit. “Ah, yes,” he hisses, biting his lip once more. “I'm alright. I'm alright. Just takes...”

There's a terrible warmness in Robbie's chest then, and he leans over to kiss Gaz again, softly. “I'm not gonna hurt you,” he promises, as if that was up for debate.

Gary chuckles at him, leaning his forehead against Rob's own. “I know,” he says. “I mean, whose idea was this anyway?”

Rob doesn't answer, just kisses him again, and when Gary starts to properly arch his hips once more Robbie answers him, thrusting his fingers in and out, giving Gaz what he wants. He fucks Gaz on his fingers and makes him _like_ it, makes him moan and gasp into Robbie's mouth, makes him cling to Rob's back and keen for more. Fuck, Rob's cock is so hard, he feels like it could just drop off.

“Gaz,” he moans as he grinds against Gary's thighs, and he knows he promised not to rush, but– “Gaz, I don't think I can take much...”

And Gary, from the look on his face, can't either; his eyes are drifting shut again and his thighs tremble with the sprain of keeping them spread, his cock still wet and leaking. “Well then,” he pants, and then oh so gently, he grasps Robbie's wrist and pushes his hand away. “Best get a move on then.”

Robbie's fingers slide out of Gary with a pop, and they feel wet and cold in the night air. “You sure?” he asks, and Gary groans.

“Rob, I love you, but if you ask me that again, I'll kill you.”

He stops. _I love you._ The words should not be so startling. He thinks he always knew it, or at least for the past half hour or so. This whole night has been a way of saying those words, just not aloud. And now they slip out, but in a joke, where they can be ignored if they have to. Maybe things haven't changed that much. Robbie's heart leaps into his throat, and he needs to find something to distract himself with, so he instinctively leans over and scrabbles for a condom.

But he finds nothing. Of course not. He didn't have this _planned._ He doesn't even know if he has any upstairs; probably not, since he and Ayda don't use them anymore and he's barely seen another soul for months. _Fuck_. “Gaz,” he blurts out in a panic. “Gaz, I don't have any – do you...?”

It takes Gary a moment to get what he's babbling about, and his eyes pop open slowly. “...No,” he says, and Rob watches his body sink into the mattress with sheer, overwhelming disappointment. He _wants_ this. Jesus, he really, really, really fucking wants this.

Robbie knows it's stupid, he's being stupid, but he's so hard and desperate and Gary needs him so badly and he cradles the other man's jaw, barely thinking before he speaks. “But I mean, it's okay,” he insists, though it isn't really. “We could still–” he bites his lip, almost willing to see sense a moment. But not quite. “...Do you trust me?”

Gary takes a second to look at him. Robbie knows he's about to be told off, that sensible Gary would never do such a thing, would never take such a risk; he'll be appalled at Rob for even asking. But then he closes his eyes once more and sighs. “Yes.”

And maybe there's a god after all, because that must count as a miracle.

Robbie doesn't give himself time to think better of it, reaching for the lube with sweaty, fumbling fingers and pouring entirely too much on his hand. It's like he really is sixteen again. He slicks himself up impatiently while Gary reaches for him again, lips smacking against each other, and he's not really sure who it is who guides him until his cock is pressed against Gaz's entrance, but he knows when he's there, when they're ready, and so there's nothing left to do but dive in.

Gary cries out again when Robb starts to thrust inside him, but it's a good cry, this time, the sort of cry that tells Rob to keep going. He feels that hot, tight hole open up for him and he wants it, he sinks in, he lets Gaz swallow him whole and it's good, so good, warm, soft, like coming home to somewhere he's never been before.

“Oh god,” he moans as he bottoms out, hiding his face in Gary's neck. “Fuck, Gaz, you're so tight...”

Gary, still panting and trembling as he adjusts to the intrusion, manages a breathless laugh. “Not used to that being a compliment, you know.”

“Hey, if this is what having to pay a quid to use your phone all the time bought me, worth it.”

Gaz makes a mock-offended noise, even as he's stratching his nails down Robbie's back. “You calling me a whore, Bob?”

Rob hums into his skin. “Only if you're into that.”

A light smack on his arse tells him probably not, and so Robbie just gets to work properly, slowly pulling himself out of Gaz before he plunges back in, striking hard and deep. Gary cries out again, his fingers digging into Rob's flesh, and when he closes his eyes again it's pure bliss Robbie sees written on his face. “Oh _god_ ,” Gaz moans as Rob really starts to fuck him, starts building up a proper rhythm, and he's trying to control himself – he really is – but it's not easy when it feels so good, Gary's tight body wrapped around him, and Gary is so clearly loving every moment of it. He thinks he'll be told to stop, slow down, be careful any second now, but no. Quite the opposite. “Ah, ah, yes, yes,” Gary whispers, kissing the B tattooed beneath Rob's ear (he never quite knew what it stood for, but now he wonders if it always meant _Barlow_ ). “Deeper, deeper Rob, harder, jesus...”

“Aye aye, captain,” he answers with a grin as he starts to thrust in more firmly, his balls making an obscene smacking noise against Gaz's arse, and it feels right, being so close to him like this, joking and playing around even when they're fucking like they might never see each other again, and Robbie's never been good at knowing what he wants, really, but when he gets it...

Gary is laughing, laughing as he clumsily kisses Rob once more, and there's no good reason to be laughing but Rob laughs too, he laughs into Gary's mouth and he laughs when he reaches down and wraps his hand around Gary's cock again, makes him whine and mewl through the laughter, cock so hard and wet he's clearly a moment away from coming, and Rob's not much further off, and that thought makes Rob laugh harder. He doesn't know why. It's just that Gary makes him laugh these days. Gary makes him happy, these days.

Among all the laughter, Robbie is hit with a wave of sadness. It seems so perfect, being with Gaz like this. Inside him. Being a part of him. But he knows better, he knows nothing is ever perfect, especially not for the two of them. Once this is finished, there will still be pain, there will still be awkwardness, there will be questions – questions about wives and fiancées and children, questions about how their story gets rewritten now. It's not right, what they're doing. But it would have been right, had they done it twenty years ago.

They're not perfect, him and Gaz. Rob has fake tan and too many tattoos and maybe more wrinkles than he should, from all the drugs and booze. Gaz has stretchmarks from all the weight he's gained and lost, and a bald patch at the back of his head. In the end, they're just a couple of middle-aged blokes fucking – no more, no less. But god, they've wanted this for so long, how could they go on never having had it?

They've left their marks on each other. This is one more.

Gary whines desperately as Robbie quickens the pace of his stroking, wanting to draw it out longer but at the same time, always drawn to the climax. He wants to know what it looks like when Gaz comes. He wants to have always known that. “Rob,” Gary moans, their lips breaking apart as Gary buries his fingers in Robbie's shoulder, thrusting into his hand, for once nakedly honest, his pleasure raw and there for all to see. “Rob... Robbie... Robert...”

And Rob chuckles, even as he buries himself balls-deep. He tightens his grip. “You not sure which name I like best, Gaz?”

Gary moans again. “Robert Peter Williams, come into my arse, now.”

It works. Somehow, despite everything, Gaz talking to him like that – _ordering_ him – overwhelms Robbie, and he spends in a second. He cries out and pushes his face against Gary's neck again, biting the skin. He wants to leave marks. And Gary lets him.

Gary gasps at the feel of Rob's come inside him, his legs twitching, thighs pressing into Rob's side. As Rob recovers, he looks up and sees Gary's eyes closed once more, he realises that Gaz likes it. He likes the feel of Rob's seed inside him. He likes knowing he's been claimed.

As Robbie's cock softens, he refocuses on working Gary's, wanking him off so fast you'd think he was trying to set a record or something. “Ah, fuck!” Gary cries out as his orgasm hits him, bucking his hips so wildly that Robbie's cock falls out, not that he notices. Robbie grins at how Gaz's spunk shoots up in the air and lands everywhere, all over both their bodies, making a proper mess.

Gary sighs and moans and trembles as he starts to come back down, and Robbie does the polite thing, he rolls off, but at the same time he can't help clinging. He curls up by Gary's side, rests his head on that well-muscled chest, grasps Gaz's hip with his tattooed fingers. He wants to hold on. He doesn't think he really can, but he _wants to._

Gary returns the cuddle, pulling him close, leaning down to kiss his hair softly. Robbie leans into him. Everything with him feels warm and soft and easy, and Rob dreads the moment he's going to have to return to reality.

But there's nothing he's better at then self-sabotage, so of course he's the one to ask the question: “what now?”

There's a long, pained silence, and Gary's fingers go still on Robbie's skin. “I don't know.” Robbie looks up, and sees Gaz staring at him, hurt, loss in his eyes. It catches him off-guard. He's still not used to seeing Gaz admit his weakness, admit there are things he doesn't know. Robbie gulps deeply. As much as he'd like to, he can't wait for Gaz to sort this all out for him.

Gary sighs, leaning his brow against Robbie's own. “Is this the part where we say, 'I wish I knew how to quit you'?”

And Robbie laughs, remembering the video from earlier, the game they played, the games they've always been playing. “Fifteen years we tried that, remember?” he points out. “Didn't work.”

“Right.” Gary sighs, and does not move. That's the thing about addiction, thinks Robbie. The possibility of relapse is always right there.

As Gary still has his eyes closed, Robbie looks up, sees his lips pink and swollen with all the kissing and the biting. It makes Robbie want to kiss him again. But somehow, he resists the impulse. Somehow he knows that kissing him again would only lead to fucking him again, and that would cross the boundary, takes this all from being wrong, but understandable, to flat-out _wrong_. There's a fling, and there's an affair. Robbie needs to believe there's a difference. He needs to believe they can still live their lives, they can be a part of each other's worlds, without ruining everything else in them.

So instead, he curls up against Gary's chest, tiredness overtaking him. In the last few moments his eyes are open, he thinks he likes the way his come looks painting Gaz's legs. He knows it's wrong, but he likes the thought he's left a mark on Gaz that can't ever wash out.

 


End file.
